


Liminality

by TsuiJa (LaoTzu)



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drunk Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Jetko, Lemon, M/M, explicit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:19:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29785662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaoTzu/pseuds/TsuiJa
Summary: "Jet's gentle hands had swallowed his face; the smell of leather and smoke permeated his nose. Jet's cloudy silhouette next to him was too defined and too large to be feminine. But – he almost didn't mind it. Something in the back of his mind was screaming at him to stop, but he almost didn't want to, his mind raging war with his flesh."Tropes: The Ferry
Relationships: Jet/Zuko (Avatar)
Kudos: 29





	Liminality

**Author's Note:**

> There's Drunk Sex in this, so if that bothers you, be advised.  
> 

_**Zuko**_ had been nervous about going to Ba Sing Se. Many others had been too. It hadn't been just a Ferry ride. It was the start of a new life and an escape of the old one. A new found hope for safety behind the walls. But with hope there was always fear. Fear it wouldn't be what you'd thought it'd be. The whole boat shared the same air of liminality, caught between one place and the next. One emotion and the next. Neither one or the other.

A disorienting space to be in; This transitional space. It felt strange to be in it for so long. Spaces like these were only meant to be in for a short time. Like a train taking you from once place to the next. It'd feel strange to stay at the station if your plans were to go anywhere but the station. But that's what this ferry was. This meandering, crawling boat holding him in this unusual reality. This reality suspending him in between two places. This reality between the old one and the new one.

But one person had grounded him. This hopeful Freedom Fighter looking for a new life beyond the wall. They'd plotted a heist on the captain, and they worked well together. Mirroring each other with two swords. Similar build and height. The same age. But more importantly, they shared this strange space together. Shared their thoughts and wasted time. Talked about old girlfriends and lost love. It made it not so confusing and disorientating. He'd been of the few people Zuko had come across that he figured he may actually _want_ to be friends with.

But soon, Zuko began to notice something. He stood a little too close. His eye contact a mere second too long. How his hand lingered on his shoulder when he'd drape his arm over him for a dramatic gesture. But never more than that. He was just a hugger, just friendly, Zuko concluded.

They grew closer to the wall. Slowly but surely. It was right over the horizon, but still a night away.

"You know, as soon as I saw your scar, I knew exactly who you were. You're an outcast, like me. And us outcasts have to stick together. We have to watch each other's backs. Because no one else will."

"I've realized lately that being on your own isn't always the best path."

"Sometimes it's good to be alone for a while. Helps clear your head. Makes you think about what's important, you know? It can be lonely though. But hey, you should think about maybe joining my team. We could use a guy like you."

"I'll think about it."

"Alright. Don't think too long. I want an answer by the time we hit Ba Sing Se. In the meantime, I snagged a bottle from the captain. Wanna' have a little last night on the ferry fun? It's good stuff. Like vintage."

"I don't drink."

"Oh, come on man. Get drunk with me. What do you have to lose?"

Zuko relented, but it wasn't long before he'd regretted it. The drunker Jet got in the hidden corner of the ferry they'd found, tucked behind a wall of barrels in a storage room somewhere, the more saddened he became. His true colors showed. He wasn't this all-encompassing charisma dealer. In fact, he probably only stayed so positive out of necessity for others. Spending his energy on keeping his gang's hopes alive. Not a bad place to spend it, but draining none the less.

"I fucked up. I fucked up everything," he'd stammered. "I'm never gonna' see them again, and it's all my fault." That's when the tears fell and his voice cracked. "They fucking hate me man. I know it. I know they do."

Zuko hadn't been sure how to respond. He'd never really been through such a heartache before, but somehow, Zuko could feel his pain. Every crack in his voice felt like razor's edge. It felt real and genuine, this pain. This regret. Though perhaps it just felt real. The alcohol swirling his mind. Making him emotional.

He found that Jet was again a bit too close sat next to him, but what was he to do? This man needed comfort. A friend. A listening ear. How could he deny him that? It'd be a pretty shitty thing to do. To leave him there with no one.

Zuko draped his arm over his shoulder and added an awkward side pat with his palm, unsure of how else to comfort him.

An "It'll be alright" and a warm smile was all he could think of to offer.

Jet turned to him with lines of tears running down his face. A soft quiet cry. Like it wasn't the first time he'd done it. This man was showing him every vulnerability that'd he'd never seen a man show before. Last time he himself had shown such a thing, his father burned half his face off. But it didn't feel right to just tell him to man up. To suck it up and move on. No. This was something that Jet needed to feel. Zuko wasn't sure why he had picked him to be the one to feel it with, but he was willing to let him.

Jet had rubbed the tears away with his sleeve; Suddenly conscious of what a sniveling wreck he looked like. A sad "Thanks man" was all he could muster.

They'd locked eyes for a moment, and though the tears were gone the torment was still there. Zuko wasn't sure why he'd let him. But when Jet had reached for his face and cupped it in his hand, he hadn't pulled away. When he leaned and pressed his lips to his, he hadn't pulled away. He'd stayed stiff and unmoving, until when Jet parted his lips to deepen it, he kissed him back after a moment. It felt like such a deeply human thing to do. A kiss. Comfort. Two people sharing a frozen moment in time.

He remembered it not being all that different than kissing a woman. Soft, delicate. The taste of liquor and tobacco heavy on his lips. No different at all really, if he kept his eyes closed. But there was no denying that it was a man who he'd been kissing. Jet's gentle hands had swallowed his face; the smell of leather and smoke permeated his nose. Jet's cloudy silhouette next to him was too defined and too large to be feminine. But – he almost didn't mind it. Something in the back of his mind was screaming at him to stop, but he almost didn't want to, his mind raging war with his flesh.

The lapping of the water against the hull, and really anything of the outside world at all, was all but drowned out as Jet had slid himself across Zuko’s lap. Zuko found himself all but helpless to it, for reasons he didn’t quite understand, Jet’s lips equally as inebriating as the rum. He allowed it to happen though, without much protest, but he _needed_ to stop. This was _wrong,_ on so many levels and –

Jet’s lips parted from his, just hovering there for a moment, and his eyes peeled open. But the sight once Zuko opened _his_ eyes, he didn't, _couldn’t_ mind so much. Two heavy lidded brown eyes met his, and they stayed ghostly still for just a moment. The air unmoving around them. Peering into each other's drunken souls unsure of what to even look for, unsure if they were looking for anything at all.

“Don’t make me stop,” Jet breathed, no _pleaded_ , barely a whisper, but close enough Zuko could feel the breath of the words leave his lips. And in that moment, Zuko regretted even _contemplating_ denying him anything. And in the end, he didn’t, and only nodded, and Jet’s lips found his again. Then down his unmarred cheek, then to the little bit of skin cradled in between his jaw and ear, his hips bearing down slightly, and suddenly, rational thought was all but impossible. Except for one question; What _exactly_ was he not stopping?

“Jet, what are we-“ But the question came out flat, and he kicked himself for pausing when Jet nipped his throat.

“Fuck me,” Jet breathed in answer, seeming to understand regardless of the interruption, right into Zuko’s ear. And for very long seconds, Zuko had forgotten words entirely. When they found him again, though, they came out dry and sick sounding, like he’d spent the last hour inhaling coal dust.

“I’ve never-“ If it was supposed to be a protest, which he wasn’t sure if it even was or not, it wasn’t a good one. If anything, the confession, which he immediately regretted admitting, made Jet smile against his throat, for some reason.

“That’s okay. I have,” Jet said quickly, almost on top of Zuko’s words, like he somewhat expected it, but Zuko couldn’t quite find it in himself to be offended by it. If anything, it was… reassuring? At least his wild inexperience wasn’t a problem, which was… good. He guessed.

Something on his face must have showed though, enough to where Jet looked at him for a moment. “Hey, it’s okay, really,” he said, a little slurred but not too much, and it sounded genuine enough, especially with the little comforting smile he did afterword. Zuko could barely see it in a line of light coming in from the shut door, and it was a nice smile, Zuko had to admit, which was such a _crazy_ thing he needed to stop thinking. “Please, Li. I need this. I need _you_.”

Oh, agni, if something ever pulled his strings harder, they’d snap.

“I can show you,” Jet added, maybe feeling like he needed to, “It’s easy, yeah?”

And all Zuko could do was curtly nod. Yeah, sure, easy. How hard could it be? Then suddenly, Jet was fumbling himself off of his lap, and Zuko sat there feeling awkward leaned up against the wooden wall of the storage room, half drunk on rum and the other half on Jet.

He watched in the dim lighting; thankful he couldn’t see much but outlines. It would probably make this unbearable if he had been able to see more. Jet shimmied something from his clothing, then laid himself on the probably very uncomfortable flooring. His hips raised from the boards, his pants shimmied down over his ankles, and Zuko’s heartbeat felt very high in his chest.

“Come ‘er.” As far as orders went, it was a fairly easy one. He pushed himself away from the wall and positioned, where he assumed he was supposed to be, in between Jet’s legs. Jet found his hand somehow in the dark, and then there was the pop of a cork from a tiny sounding bottle. What is he –

Oh. _Oh_. His fingers went slick with some kind of oil, and Zuko was suddenly very aware of what he had to do. This was all happening so fast - _too_ fast. And why did he carry this stuff with him? Did he keep it in his pocket?

“Do you want-“ But he found himself unable to finish, because it sounded pretty stupid. _Of course_ , he did.

“You’ll like it too,” Jet said, probably as a reassurance, but Zuko found that somewhat hard to believe. His fingers had never been inside of anyone before, let alone a man and – and how, how was this not _invasive_? For him? Zuko felt like an invader just thinking about it.

But before he could dwell on it too much, Jet pulled his wrist down and under, and his knuckles braised over the skin of Jet’s inner thigh, down and down until Jet pressed his fingertip over where it was supposed to be. And then _in,_ just barely.

“I can’t do it all,” Jet said, then followed it with a halfhearted chuckle, then Zuko remembered his muscles were, in fact, able to move on their own, “Just go slow.”

So, he did, probably too much so, because after a second Jet was tugging his wrist. He followed the cue, swallowing what little spit he had left in his mouth that hadn’t dried up at the point, and went in and in. When the finger reached the knuckle though, Jet shifted, just slightly.

“Good?” Zuko asked, feeling stupid, unable to come up with anything more sophisticated than one word, but feeling the need to ask anyway.

“Yeah,” Jet answered, then shifted a little more, “You can do more.”

And thus, it went for three fingers, each one becoming a little less nerve-wracking than the last. Zuko was surprised to find he did like it, just a little, as the newness of the task had started to subside. Jet seemed to be enjoying it, giving a mantra of little noises and grunts as they went along, which helped way more than Zuko imagined they would. They weren’t the drawn out, high pitched shrieks of pleasure he’d occasionally heard coming from the bedrooms of his crew mates when they would get a “ _port girl”,_ but they were nice. Better, almost. More intimate, at least. Like they were saved for his ears alone. Which that thought by itself had sprung up something between his own legs, something that was more well equipped for the task that Jet had requested of him than what he had before.

And that only amplified when Jet gestured that he _move_ his fingers, a slight rhythmic motion puppeteered by Jet’s hand on his wrist. Jet made a noise, probably too loud and probably an accident, that sounded like it was supposed to be a word but didn’t make it. He was squirming, just slightly, under the weight of Zuko’s hand. In the low light, he could see that with his other hand, Jet was touching _himself_ , an up and down movement that matched Zuko’s fingers. And that, well, that was doing _something_ to him, and he found that even though Jet’s grip on his arm had slackened to almost nothing, he was doing it well enough on his own now.

“Fuck, _Li_ ,” Jet breathed, almost inaudibly, but very loud within the empty room. And that, hearing his name, even if it were his fake name, said like _that_ , had done more to him than anything thus far. Which was just all _wrong_ – “Fuck me, _please_ Li.”

If there was anything else he could have done, gotten up and ran out of there, fled like the coward he felt like, like he did with seemingly everything else, it was lost. His unbusy hand, which he hadn’t realized had gripped itself to Jet’s thigh, squeezed unconsciously as he removed his other.

He fumbled with his robes, which seemed overly complicated in the dark, looking down at them and cursing himself for having tied such good knots. Eventually, what felt like ages later, he’d freed himself, his cock hanging out from the layers of clothing. Jet had grown impatient in that time and had sat up, which Zuko couldn’t really blame him for. But impatience wasn’t what was on Jet’s mind, he realized quickly, when Jet ran his fingers down the bottom of his shaft. A breath escaped him without his say so, and Jet wrapped his fingers around him and squeezed.

He closed his eyes, leaning shakily on his knees on the hard floor. Movement seemed to flee his realm of reality again as Jet poured whatever substance he had in that bottle onto him and rubbed it in. He knew it was wrong, he knew it was. But it felt as merciful and right as a thirsty man drinking sea water. _So_ gratifying… in the moment.

Then Jet was tugging him by the fabric of his chest down and on top of him, pressing their lips together in a mess of saliva and tongue. “Now,” he murmured against Zuko’s lips, tugging the fabric as good measure.

So, Zuko did the only thing he _could_ do, which was reach his hand between them and grab his cock. His hand brushed over Jet’s in the process, which wasn’t nearly as revolting as he’d hoped, but he brushed it off and continued his schedule. His tip touched skin and ah, agni, if Jet didn’t quit _squirming_ this was never going to happen.

“Be still,” he said lowly, more an order than anything, which seemed to both surprise himself _and_ Jet, who he could feel his lips turning upwards into a smile. Jet listened though and arched into him, and _oh my spirits_ the sensation as he slipped inside. He feared he may come right there and have to start all over.

They both let out a low groan as the first inch of the process had completed, and it was too much and not enough all at once. _Go slow,_ he reminded himself once his cock had seemed to want to take over the show, wanting nothing more than to ram forward already. He thought, a bit dimly for a moment, if Jet had encountered someone else in a similar situation, a stranger from nowhere who’d he let inside him while he was raw and vulnerable, who _didn’t_ work as carefully as he was, and winced at the thought. It made him feel marginally better about the situation, that he was doing everything in his power to make this a _pleasant_ experience, for Jet at least.

A few miniscule movements later, and they’d found somewhat of a rhythm, despite there being barely any of him in Jet at all. It still felt so _good_ regardless though, and he found his hand balling into a fist on the side of Jet, his fingertips bruising against the wooden boards, his other hand tight around himself. Jet’s hands had knotted themselves on Zuko’s hips, and after a moment of this, Jet had grown far too impatient with the kindly motion, and jerked his hips forwards.

He went deeper, and Jet made a pained noise, which he realized wasn’t a pained noise at all when he opened his mouth. “Fuck, Li, keep going like that. I’ll tell you if it hurts, okay?”

Okay. And so it went, until he’d reached halfway up his cock, then three quarters, then _all_ the way. Then he laid there on top of Jet for a moment, relishing and a little afraid to move. Jet’s hand raveled up the back of his neck, pulling at his hair, bizarrely _tenderly_ given the situation, and pressed their lips together for a fervent, open mouthed kiss. Whilst that was happening, his other hand tugged Zuko’s hip, gesturing for him to move once more, until he was in a gentle rocking motion that seemed to make the rest of the world fade to absolutely nothing.

He thought, a bit blasphemously, that if there was such thing as the heavens or nirvana or anything like that, that it was centered in Jet’s core. It just felt that _good_. Jet seemed to be on the same page, discarding Zuko’s lips to tilt his head backwards on the boards, letting out low moans that Zuko feared others could hear, but didn’t really even care anymore. He felt Jet’s hand snake between them, grabbing himself again, until he came with a yelp that he quickly tried to subdue by clamping his other hand over his mouth. Their stomachs went slick, and any control over his own body left Zuko in that moment, and he followed with ragged breaths, seeing stars behind his eyelids.

They lay like that for a moment, a tangle of limbs and fluid, panting for breath that they could feel on each other’s faces. “Roll over,” Jet croaked after a moment, so Zuko did, rolling to his side and laying facing Jet. Jet followed suit, and raised his hand to cup Zuko’s cheek, his _scarred_ cheek, but for one of the few times in his life, he’d forgotten that it even existed. They kissed again, lazily this time, no amount of fervor left in it, replaced with such a tender intimacy that Zuko surprised himself by taking Jet’s own cheek in his hand.

And it felt wet, and his stomach dropped to his feet.

"I- I need to go to bed," Jet whispered and swallowed, but his eyes didn't leave Zuko's in that thin fan of light that had once revealed his smile, but now revealed something else entirely.

So, Zuko helped him to bed. And in the morning, he was unsure if Jet had even remembered it; let alone contemplated regretting it. He felt it best not to mention it, and neither of them did. It wasn't purposefully, but after intake, they never saw each other again. Leaving their time behind in that unusual space. And moving to the next one.


End file.
